


Google, Tell Me Something Good

by Fangirleatingbook



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Depression, Homophobia, Langst, References to Depression, details about depression, google search, sorry lance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 21:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10795074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirleatingbook/pseuds/Fangirleatingbook
Summary: Lance isn't feeling that great.Like any other person trying to waste their time, he turns to Google.





	1. Chapter 1

Lance slumped down at his desk and opened his laptop with a defeated sigh.  

He unlocked it with quick fingers that flew over the keyboard in muscle memory that could only be obtained from doing something thousands of times. Leaning his whole body back against his chair like a rag doll, he waited a couple of useless seconds for the computer to load.  

A high-pitched  _ping_ drove him slowly back up into his seat and grabbing for the mouse, clicking open a Chrome window and typing a Google search mindlessly:  

 

_"how not to feel like shit"_  

 

Search. 

 

Lance scrolled passed links with asinine, ignorant titles ensuring you that in _seven simple steps_ you could feel all better. What a laugh. 

He clicked a couple of randoms ones, scanning them nonchalantly in search of nothing in particular, but just something to fill in the time. It's not like he had anything better to do. Okay, so that wasn't entirely true; there were plenty of things he could (should) be doing right now, but he simply just did not care.  

 

The "articles" fell into two categories:  

  1. Ones that gave a specific numeral amount of "easy tips" (the same ones that repeated over and over again on each webpage) 


  1. Ones that informed you about depression 



 

So, basically, all of them were completely useless. 

But then again he hadn't really expected anything in the first place, what could the tell him that he didn't know already? The symptoms of depression? That exercising and sleeping a normal amount was good for you? Some news. 

He clicked on another link, this one labeled "10 Questions to Ask Yourself When You Feel Like Crap", and started reading. 

 

_"When life feels overwhelming, it can be easy to fall into a rut. The next time you feel low, here are 10 questions you can ask to gain a fresh perspective and get moving in a more_ _positive direction. They can be applied to any area of_ _your life when you feel down, angry, fearful, sad, or confused."_  

 

You could tell the article was going to be very informative because at the very top of the page was a picture of a woman stretching outside, with a content yet curious expression on her face and her hair tied up in a high ponytail. Yes, Lance was sure that he was going to gain tremendously from this piece. 

 

_"1._ _Will I allow myself to play the victim or will I choose to be responsible for this situation."_  

 

That stopped Lance in his tracks. 

His indifferent mood was whipped away clean in one single swipe.  

He read it again multiple times, just to make sure that that's really what it said. Yup, it really did say that. 

He could feel the pressure building up in his chest and then fall to his stomach like he had just consumed a brick. 

 

"Yeah, will I _allow_ myself to play the victim?" He said bitterly, not being able to help when his voice broke at the end nor when his balled fists started to shake. "Y-yup, it's definitely all my fault I'm like this. I should take 'responsibility' for my situation," Lance trembled. 

 

Not being able to help himself, he kept reading. 

 

_"2._ _Will I continue to react to circumstances or will I choose to_ _create the life I want to live?_  

  1. _Can I take the time to respond from a place of clarity and strength, rather than immediately react to this experience?_
  2. _Will I blame others for the situation or will I take responsibility for it and create an action plan to move forward from a place of personal power to strength?_
  3. _Am I allowing someone else to take away my personal power? (Hint: if you're playing the victim, the answer to this will always be yes.)_ "



 

Hot tears were rolling down his face and falling onto his desk, leaving him like everything else in his life had.  

The echoes of the words "playing the victim" rang harshly, and repeatedly in his mind, scratching the insides of his skull over and over again like daggers. This was no game that you could "play" at, this was real. 

Lance understood where the author was coming from, knowing that they probably hadn't been thinking of depression when writing the article (probably never even experiencing it themselves before) and some of their points made sense, but their words stung him like nothing else could. He tried, he really did, over the last four years to make himself better. He listened to only happy music, he forced himself to smile and laugh every day, he exercised, he did his best not to isolate himself and be social, he ate healthily, he went to sleep early at night, he went to therapy, he had tried _everything_. Sure, there had been some brief periods of time where these things  _did_ work and he felt happy, but, after a couple of weeks, his depression always came back. 

But, somehow he was "playing the victim", somehow he was responsible for these feelings. Yeah, this had nothing to do with his brain chemistry being all messed up, this was his fault and he should just take responsibility for his situation. Lance had tried so hard, _so fucking hard_ to stop the suicidal thoughts and the fatigue and the anger and the anxiety and the complete and utter hopelessness, but apparently, that means nothing.  

 

Another part of the passage intrudes Lance's memory:  

" _Can I take the time to respond from a place of clarity and strength, rather than immediately react to this experience?_ _"_  

 

This part made him enraged too; how was he supposed to "respond from a place of clarity" when he was depressed? Being depressed made him angry and he was agitated easily (far from a place of "clarity" and calm reasoning). Sometimes he would be talking to someone and the anger would just sneak up on him without warning. It would release itself in a ball of fire and rage before he could stop it, consuming him whole and leaving him in ruins. But must be Lance's fault too. 

Lance was so outraged that it started to emotionally drain him, his angry dripping away and leaving him empty.  

The tears were still eroding his cheeks, but be was bare of any emotions. 

 

He felt nothing. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, for any mistakes (this was barely edited at all so...)
> 
> A good song related to this, not in meaning but in tone, and the only thing I listened to while writing this:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dvnw-8wmT8M


	2. Till the Sun Dies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is done trying.

 

Here he was again. 

 

Lance was sitting at his desk watching the intricate patterns on his arm shift and shake with the movements of the tree outside his window as they obscured the light of the sun. The spots of sunlight that reached his skin made the tiny hairs on his arm shine like little slivers of gold and his freckles stand out against their caramel background.  

He didn't know exactly how long he had been situated here, hypnotized by the dancing of the light, but it was longer than it should have been. Lance had things he had to do, things that were more productive than sitting here petrified, but he just couldn't bring himself to do them. He felt stuck, glued down without the energy to escape from this prison of a chair, room, house, and town. Right now, Lance felt like his whole life was a prison; there was nowhere he could go where he felt free, free of all of the massive weight that lay heavily on his chest and the responsibilities that seemed to drag him down.  

There were things that he had to do, but he didn't have the courage to try to do them. After years of experience, he knew that no matter how hard he tried he wouldn't be able to do them. There's this saying that always comes to his mind, one that his grandmother would tell him when he was a little kid. 

 

_If you don't succeed, try_ _try_ _again._  

 

Well, he had tried.  

Over and over and  _over_  again Lance had tried his best, put all of his effort into the things he did and in making himself better, but it never worked. He was still here in the same place he was before (mentally and physically). His best wasn't good enough and, if his best wasn't good enough, then nothing would ever be good enough. Lance would never be good enough. 

Lance was tired of trying and tired of getting no results from all of his efforts. Well, that wasn't always true; sometimes he  _would_  get results. But that was almost worse because it would give Lance hope, hope that things would get better, that he could be happy, that things could be ok. But then, out of nowhere, everything would come crashing down again _hard_ , like if Atlas just decided one day that he wasn't going to hold up the sky anymore. Everything that Lance had been working towards would simply crumple up in his hands, putting months of work to waste. No matter how many times he tried to gather up those pieces and put them back together, they always fell apart again.  

So, yeah, Lance was tired of trying.  

He didn't want to, no, he  _couldn't_  live his life like this, spending every waking minute trying to fixing what couldn't be fixed.  

So, here he was, staring at the light creeping in through his window, not attempting to fix things. Still, he was overfilling with guilt for not doing anything, but apparently, his fear of failure trumped that feeling because he wasn't moving.  

 

Maybe this was for the best. 

 

As long as Lance could stay here watching the sunlight play upon him, he could be somewhat content. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I don't know if this is going to become a thing or not but... 
> 
>  
> 
> Song of this chapter is "A Long Walk For Parted Lovers" by Yumi Zouma.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3CG08s-Jpug
> 
> Also sorry if the repetition of the word "try" got annoying, but I feel like there is always that one word when it comes to these feelings.


	3. Over the Rainbow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING there is mentions of homophobia (it's not extreme though)

The walls that once had been a bright, brilliant sapphire during Lance's childhood were now faded and dull, like the color had been extracted from them and all that was left was the faint memory of the hue that once lived there. Maybe the noise blaring from the cheap speakers laying in the center of the messy room was physically shaking the color away, everything  _did_  seem to be trembling from the shear force of the sound waves. It was ironic that such a slow, mournful song would be playing so ear-splittingly loud and cause such chaos. A wistful guitar roared through the air, stuffing the small bedroom (and surely the rest of the house) until it was on the verge of bursting from the pressure. Soon a sweet, dreamy voice joined in, causing more tremors that threatened to toss picture frames off the walls. 

 _"Little boys don't cry_  

 _Little boys aren't shy_  

 _Little boys are_ _tough_  

 _They do stuff that little girls don't try_  

 

 _"Little boys don't dance_  

 _Little boys wear pants_  

 _Little boys are bold_  

 _And then_ _told they_ _don't_ _hold little boys' hands_ _"_  

 

Lance didn't want to think.  

He had turned up the music as loud as physically possible in a desperate attempt to blare out all the thoughts tearing his fragile brain apart but it was no use. There was no stopping this. 

Words and phrases were spilling haphazardly into his mind in an incoherent jumble, words that Lance had feared of hearing for so long.  

  

 _SIN._ _Yo_ _u'Re_ _gOinG_ _to_ _HEll_ _._ _WhY_ _ArE_ _yOu_ _doINg_ _tHis_ _tO_ _us?iF_ _yOu_ _APologiZE_ _fOR_ _You_ _R_ _siN_ _MAyBe_ _gOD_ _wiLL_ _FoRgiVe_ _YoU_ _.DOn'T_ _SaY_ _ThHe_ _G-A-Y_ _wORd_ _iN_ _fRoNT_ _oF_ _YOuR_ _LitTLe_ _boTHeR.ArE_ _YoU_ _sURE_ _??DISQUISTING._ _HoW_ _aRE_ _yoU_ _sUre_ _?_ _WHerE_ _dId_ _wE_ _gO_ _wRoNG_ _?_ _MAYbe_ _wE_ _cAN_ _FIx_ _You.SIN.You_ _kNow_ _YoU'rE_ _GoINg_ _TO_ _HeLL_ _rIgHT_ _?iS_ _It_ _BecaAUsE_ _It'S_ _CoOl_ _To_ _BE_ _G-a-Y_ _NOw_ _? PLEASE Don’t_ _sAY_ _tHe_ _G-A-y_ _wOrD.ThIs_ _iS_ _nOT_ _OkAY_ _.I_ _cAnt_ _suPPoRT_ _tHiS_ _PaRT_ _oF_ _yOU.CHOICE_ _._ _WHy_ _WOUld_ _youWanTthiS?WHy?LeAvE.GETOUTOFMYHOUSE_  

 

Lance felt like he was going insane and that his head was going to burst at any second.  

Any moment he was going to lose the miniscule amount of composure he had left, that he was hopelessly clinging on to like his life depended on it. Maybe it did. 

 

 _"There's somewhere over the rainbow_  

 _And if you change the way you love_  

 _Then maybe you can go"_  

 

And there it went. 

Without thinking, Lance picked up his old, wooden desk chair and hurled it forcefully across the room. It crashed into his bedroom door before falling back onto the tiled floor with a thudbarely audible over the blasting music. Surprisingly, the chair held together perfectly, looking as though it hadn't even been scratched. 

Lance laughed bitterly.  

 _Guess that's the one_ _thing that isn't broken in my life._  

With that, he grabbed the nearest bag and started packing frantically. 

 

 _"Cause somewhere over the rainbow_  

 _There's a man who's powerful_  

 _And he wants to know_  

 _Where the rain goes_  

 _After the pain goes, they'll be dancing with_ _halos_  

 _Somewhere over the rainbow"_  

 

What moved Lance at this point was the adrenaline from the excitement of throwing the chair and of knowing what he was about to do. He was tossing various possessions of his across the room as he searched hurriedly for the things he needed and shoved them carelessly into his dark, navy blue backpack. The bag was already part way filled with his school supplies, but it was the best he could do at the moment so in went his mp3, a few pieces of clothes, precious pictures from times long past, his wallet, chargers, and anything else he could fit. Lance went around his room until the backpack was full to the brim, only closing when he used all of his limbs to push the contents of the bag as close as possible.  

 

 _"Little boys don't sing_  

 _Little boys are kings_  

 _Little boys fly kites, they ride bikes_  

 _T_ _hey don't like little girl things"_  

 

Leaving the bag temporally on the crowded floor, Lance put on his swamp-green jacket (his favorite), put his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, lifted the pillow he had used since kindergarten off of his bed, then swung the backpack over his shoulders.  

Finally, Lance was in front of his door. 

He sighed deeply, adrenaline beginning to kick in again. 

 _Guess this is it._  

He took one more look at the door in front of him, dented and white paint chipping, before he pushed it open and stepped uneasily into a dim hallway.  

 

 _"Dad said, 'I know my baby's special_  

 _And you'll grow to be a man_  

 _And I know the world may dance with devils_  

 _But be strong, be flown to this holy land"_  

 

Fear crawled down Lance's spine as he crept down the dark, vacant hallway careful to not be heard, not that much could be heard over the music that was still booming from out of his room. Light entering from an open doorway in the middle of the hallway illuminated the space around Lance enough for him to maneuver across the floor without making noise. The harsh, white light grew brighter as he neared the doorway. Not only did the light become more apparent, but so did the voices. 

With the noise from his room growing slightly fainter, Lance could now make out the voices of his mom and dad yelling again, fighter over what they were going to do with their bi son. 

Lance didn't want to listen, all the mattered was that they were distracted.  

He snuck a quick peek over the side of the doorway and insured that both his parents were facing the other way before he quickly passed the opening and continued down the hallway. In a couple of steps, Lance was finally at the front door of his house. Well, the front door of what used to be his house anyway. 

His free hand sprung out eagerly, reaching for the wobbly handle. 

 

 _"There's somewhere over the rainbow_  

 _And if you change the way you love_  

 _T_ _hen maybe you can go"_  

 

With a twist and a pull, Lance opened the door. 

Cold, fresh air washed over him like a wave, his exposed skin was ignited with sensation as he walked out into the autumn night.  

Lance took a deep breath in, enjoying the scent of grass, leaves, and freedom. 

He stepped all the way out of the house, gently closed the door behind him, and walked down the cracking, cement drive way passing the lush front lawn. Soon, he was on the side walk, under the yellowing leaves of tall trees and the light of the stars. 

Hiking his backpack higher on his shoulders, Lance let out a peaceful sigh. The stars were beautiful. 

Don't get him wrong, Lance was scared shitless; he didn't know if his parents were going to try to put him into conversion therapy (something he knew they had been considering), whether or not he would ever be able to return home, how he would be able to provide for himself while still being in high school, or where he was even going to go. Today had been absolutely horrible and his life was going to be extremely more challenging from now on. But god damn it, the stars were gorgeous tonight. 

He was going to enjoy the very limited time he had left while he was still in shock and the whole brunt of the situation hadn't hit him full force yet.  

As the music coming from Lance's room grew fainter and fainter, turning more soothing than sad, he imagined escaping to space and flying among the stars far, far away from his problems. 

 

 _"The streets are paved with bricks of gold_  

 _A_ _nd if you want to see, come pray with me_  

 _Cause somewhere over the rainbow_  

 _There's a man who's powerful_  

 _And he wants you to know_  

 _Where the rain goes_  

 _After the pain goes, they'll be dancing with halos_  

_Somewhere over the rainbow."_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that, there's actually some plot this time!  
> Yeah, though it's 4:20 and I probably need to edit this more but i'm tired, lazy, and i'm using my sister's computer (a stupid windows 8) so pretty much every two minutes it randomly zooms in and out and its so annoying and I can't deal with it any longer than I already have so...
> 
> The song of the day ladies, gentlemen, and anyone who falls in between or anywhere else is Over the Rainbow from Straight Out of OZ (it's really good you should check it out).  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7cKa7IsPWKk
> 
> Okay@ time to pass oit mow


End file.
